


make believe

by theblackhall



Series: a castle of façade of make believe [1]
Category: Pentagon (Korea Band)
Genre: Cancer Arc, Heavy Angst, Hospitals, M/M, Suicide Attempt, mentions of blood and suicide, wooyu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:21:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29261145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theblackhall/pseuds/theblackhall
Summary: The truth is spelt out in your eyes, thought Yuto, but he couldn’t muster the courage to say it out loud. He knew that if he did, then there was no taking it back, and everything that Wooseok had tried to hold in before him would shatter into pieces he wasn’t strong enough to glue together.
Relationships: Adachi Yuto/Jung Wooseok
Series: a castle of façade of make believe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2148849
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	make believe

**Author's Note:**

> this is based on the girl who cried wolf by 5sos. i didn't even plan this, just wanted to write something that hurt, so here i am after four hours of being hunched over my laptop. if you want the full experience, you can put the song on repeat as you read. if you want, of course :)

Above the skyline, where the flattened roofs of apartment buildings and corporate skyscrapers met the clouds, there was nothing but darkness. It had been raining for days on end, the once blue sky that allowed sunlight to embrace the life in the city below now darkened with puffs of grey clouds that bore heavy raindrops.

Yuto thought he liked the rain, simply because where he’s from, in Nagano, it rained a lot. But now that he stood in a different country with a thick coat swallowing him whole as he ran on the wet pavement, maybe he thought wrong. He swore under his breath when he almost slipped, quickly regaining his balance and pushing his way through strangers while muttering never ending apologies. A glance at the watch on his left wrist made him run faster.

It was almost 4:30 PM. _He was late._

By the time Yuto reached the main entrance of the hospital and dashed into the lobby fully drenched, another ten minutes had passed. He endured the judgemental looks thrown at him as he made his way towards the elevator. The receptionist on duty only nodded at him with a tight lipped smile, acknowledging his presence the way she did every day for the past three months.

Yuto found himself tapping his foot impatiently on the tiled floor whilst drumming his fingers on the side of his thighs. When the elevator doors finally opened, he walked inside, thankful that there was no one else there with him, and pressed the button to the fifth floor. He watched the number on the small screen beside the door increase slowly, his patience growing thinner with every clank of metal outside. His distorted reflection in the surface of the doors made him cringe visibly, and he tried his best to fix his damp hair that was sticking to his face.

When he reached the quaint hallways of the fifth floor, Yuto steadied his pace and nodded at the nurses he walked past along the way. The walk towards room 512 didn’t take long; it was an all too familiar route he took every single day without fail for 95 days, but today’s journey left a pang in his chest that he didn’t understand. Well, not yet, at least.

Where he was running earlier, down the busy streets on a rainy, Tuesday afternoon, Yuto now walked as if his feet dreaded the sight he would face behind the double doors that led to room 512. It was at the end of the hallway Yuto now stood in the middle of, and he’d stopped walking due to a familiar figure sitting on the bench situated outside the room.

A hundred thoughts began racing through Yuto’s mind then, even when that person was the reason why he had left his workplace earlier and ran all the way to the hospital with nothing but panic in his eyes. Numerous texts and missed calls had flooded his phone an hour prior, which Yuto only noticed when he checked his phone after a meeting with his boss. The man didn’t waste a single second when he stormed into the office once more to announce he’s leaving an hour earlier than he’s supposed to.

Despite the growing pessimist in him clouding his brain, Yuto forced himself to approach the woman seated on the bench. She looked up from her lap before he had the chance to greet her, and those bloodshot eyes that rested above tear stricken cheeks were enough to make Yuto’s heart throb in his chest.

“What happened?” he asked. His deep voice sounded so small when the words escaped his mouth, his lips quivering and his eyes glassy from threatening tears. “Is he… Is he okay?”

Yuto wanted to slap himself for asking that question. When was he ever okay? Why would any of them be in a place filled with the pungent smell of medicine and cheap dish soap if he was okay in the first place?

“He tried it again, Yuto,” the woman replied, her breath shaky as if those words were too heavy for her tongue to deliver. It was the voice of someone who had spent an hour crying, with broken sobs escaping her lungs every few seconds. Her eyes fell from Yuto’s face and met her own twiddling fingers in her lap.

The half unread texts and missed phone calls were a knife jabbed into his heart, but the words spoken by his lover’s sister twisted that knife deeper until the pain went numb.

“He’s in there,” she continued when Yuto didn’t reply. His lips were parted, just a little, but there was nothing he could say, and she knew that. “You can go in,” she sniffled, forcing a smile as she looked back up at him, “I just need to sit out here for a while.”

Yuto found himself nodding curtly before slowly approaching the doors. From the small, rectangular glass panels, he could see the room inside and how white everything was, save for the mint green curtains hanging beside the bed and across the windows. He couldn’t see the man his heart throbbed for, but he knew he’s inside, and that made lifting his feet feel even heavier than it did before.

He pushed open one door, letting it creak softly as he entered the room. The silence was different from the one in the hallways; there was no white noise, no hush whispering—just the sound of raindrops knocking on the window and the steady beep of a machine. Connected to that machine was none other than Jung Wooseok, dressed in a white t-shirt and plaid pajama pants.

Wooseok sat on the floor with his back against the wall adjacent to the window, his eyes remained unblinking as they stared at the swinging twigs outside. Along with the heavy rain came harsh wind, blowing leaves off of their branches and splashing waterfalls down the glass windows. He sat there unmoving, even when Yuto walked closer and the door closed behind him.

“Hey,” Yuto said softly, his voice barely a whisper as if speaking any louder would shatter the man seated before him.

When Wooseok didn’t reply, Yuto crouched down in front of him silently, his gaze never leaving the former’s ashen face. The dark circles beneath Wooseok’s sunken eyes had become more prominent overnight, his chapped lips pale in the bit of wan, stormy light streaming through the window. He used to stand tall, towering over Yuto everywhere they went, but now he looked so small, so _fragile._ His long limbs were merely bones protruding from his body, with greying skin that no longer glowed beneath the sun.

Yuto let the first tear fall only to wipe it away instantly with the side of his palm. He looked at the bleary-eyed, exhausted man sitting before him, someone he’d known since the day he turned fourteen, and he barely recognized him at all.

Wooseok used to be so full of life.

He was loud, always screaming over every little thing he found adorable and singing off-key to a Red Hot Chilli Peppers song. He loved making art, painting every piece of bland clothing he had with his own designs and style, dotting Yuto’s black and white world with specks of orange and pink and blue. Where Yuto studied hard to become the auditor his parents so badly wished him to be, Wooseok followed his dream.

Day and night, the two were inseparable. Yuto would stay up to study for his exams and Wooseok would be right beside him, sketching anime characters in his notebook between the fifty drawings of Yuto he had. Wooseok made art with everything he had, be it a bucket of paint or a blunt pencil, an expensive canvas he saved money for or the napkin from their favorite diner—Wooseok made art until he couldn’t anymore.

When they moved in together at twenty, Yuto let the love of his life have one whole room to himself, just for his artwork. He could still feel the sloppy kisses Wooseok left on every bit of skin on his face when he showed him the room, and the laughter that echoed the walls before Wooseok blessed them with the strokes of his paintbrush.

It all seemed so distant now, because that was five years ago. When Yuto blinked, he was back in the hospital room, and a different Wooseok was sitting in front of him. Except this time, Wooseok was staring back.

He remained silent, his pale lips sewn shut, but his eyes were loud. They were talking, saying something to Yuto that he understood all too well. His hands shook slightly when he extended them for Yuto to take, but the latter held them anyway, letting his thumbs brush over the yellow patches on Wooseok’s cold skin.

Yuto sat down on the floor and watched as Wooseok threw his glance out the window again, refusing to speak a single word. But Yuto knew how speaking could be tiring to him, and he didn’t want to burden Wooseok with words when his actions spoke for him. He continued to warm Wooseok’s bony hands in his, rubbing the exposed skin gently while avoiding the IV tube that was injected into his vein.

The two remained seated on the floor as the rain continued to drum sporadic beats on the glass, accompanying steady beeps from the heart monitor beside the vacant bed. It was like any other day for them, except it wasn’t.

Wooseok had asked to stop chemotherapy after knowing about his short lifespan, and it made Yuto feel so helpless. He wanted to keep fighting for Wooseok, wanted _Wooseok_ himself to keep fighting, but there’s nothing he could do when the decision was made. It was up to Wooseok, and Yuto had promised to support him no matter what. He couldn’t turn his back on him when the decision to keep going sounded so selfish.

He was in pain, but the one who suffered and struggled was Wooseok, with a kind of pain Yuto couldn’t even begin to imagine. He had no right denying the decisions made by Wooseok himself, regarding his own body.

“Are you gonna talk to me?” Wooseok asked weakly, his mouth barely moving as the words slurred together. He glanced at Yuto for a brief second before looking out the window again.

The truth was, Yuto didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t pretend like he didn’t see the blood stains on the white bedsheet, or the extension wire wrapped around the ceiling fan, hanging down loosely. Hell, how could he not see the chair pushed to the side from directly being under it, when the chair was supposed to be on the other side of the room?

Yuto gulped, his throat hurting from holding back the stubborn tears that now blurred his vision. He stopped rubbing Wooseok’s hands and just held them tightly, squeezing them with the small ounce of energy he had left before the tears finally flowed. His shoulders shook as he bent forward, burying his forehead in Wooseok’s neck. The sobs that left his mouth became louder when he felt a hand on his back, rubbing slowly in circular motion to comfort him.

“Why?” he cried, “Why, Seokie?”

Wooseok wrapped his shaky arms around Yuto and held him close, his own eyes gleaming with tears. He had no answer.

He remembered the very first time the excruciating pain stung his abdomen, making him gasp for air and fumbling for an object to hold before blacking out on the kitchen floor. It was unbearable, the pain, but it was nothing compared to the pain he felt when he saw the look on Yuto’s face as the doctor told them the news.

 _“You have liver cancer_ , _”_ the doctor’s words rang in his ears. _“It’s uncommon for people below the age of fifty, though it may occur.”_

 _“How long do I have?”_ Wooseok remembered asking. He’d felt numb, but he’d hated seeing Yuto’s tears slide down his face after he asked the question.

_“Around three to five years.”_

That was three years ago.

Then the chemotherapy began, and the hair loss increased. Wooseok’s hands began to shake slightly and bruises decorated his skin for no apparent reason. He remembered the day he’d painted roses and sunflowers on the wall in their apartment, and thought the yellow patch on his wrist was paint.

He remembered Yuto’s voice echoing in his ears, calling out his name frantically while he remained on the floor, unable to move or open his eyes. The paint had spilled on the wooden floorboards and his paintbrush had fallen a few inches away. Wooseok wanted to move, just a little, to hold the object one last time, but Yuto’s arms slid underneath his head and knees, taking him off of the floor before he could.

That was three months ago.

Now Wooseok held Yuto in his arms and stared at the yellowing skin of his hands, not knowing the answer to the latter’s question.

Why _did_ he do it?

Why did he want to take away his own life when he knew it was coming to an end soon anyway?

Why couldn’t he _wait_?

Wooseok didn’t know. He blinked the tears back and ran his slender fingers through Yuto’s black hair, trying his best to soothe his cries even when he knew well that he was the cause. When Yuto pulled back and wiped away his own tears, Wooseok looked at him and gave a wan smile.

He loved Yuto, perhaps too much, to see him suffer the way he did. He couldn’t let his pain become a part of Yuto’s life any longer. _He_ was the one suffering from the illness, there’s no reason for him to drag the one he loved most into the spiral of pain too. It’s like having a bullet—no, a fucking _knife_ stuck into his side and twisting his flesh with it every single day. It twisted so much that Wooseok couldn’t feel it anymore.

But the pain came back every time he watched Yuto’s tears fall because of him.

“You told me you want to fight it,” Yuto finally said, his voice breaking. “Why are you always finding a way to call it quits even when there’s no way out?”

Wooseok only looked at him, his tongue betraying him by not rising against those words. He waited for Yuto to continue, because once the words left his mouth, he knew he would sound too selfish, and he didn’t know if he wanted to see Yuto’s reaction.

“Wooseok,” Yuto called, taking his hands again. When their gazes met, Yuto felt his world slowly crumbling around him. Those sunken eyes stared back at him without a single light behind them; the light that was once there, shining brightly every time he stared at them—gone. “Do you want to leave me that badly?”

Perhaps Yuto was being selfish too, but one could only take so much until they finally break.

Wooseok shook his head slightly, “No.”

 _The truth is spelt out in your eyes_ , thought Yuto, but he couldn’t muster the courage to say it out loud. He knew that if he did, then there was no taking it back, and everything that Wooseok had tried to hold in before him would shatter into pieces he wasn’t strong enough to glue together.

“Then tell me, baby,” Yuto brought Wooseok’s hands to his lips, leaving feather light kisses on every knuckle as he spoke. “It doesn’t have to be like this. It doesn’t have to be a facade when you’re with me.”

But that’s what it was.

They both knew that it was all an act, a castle of make believe. They could fight, make Wooseok go through chemo and care for his nutrition, monitor his heartbeat and take weekly twenty-minute walks in the hospital garden for some fresh air—they could do it, and Wooseok would continue to waste away regardless of it all.

Yuto knew it. He could see it from the way Wooseok looked at him, as if the colors he had given Yuto all these years had dissipated from his own fingers. There’s nothing left.

“Look at me in the eye,” Wooseok whispered, his voice low and broken. He leaned forward until their foreheads touched, the smell of rain mixed with Yuto’s cologne replaced the chemicals. “Is anyone there at all?”

A stray tear escaped his eye, and Yuto was quick to catch it with his thumb. Yuto’s own lips quivered, but he bit back the cries and pressed a kiss to Wooseok’s forehead, his eyes blinking profusely to stop the new waves of tears from crashing onto the surface. It was all that he could muster, not to break down where he sat as he held Wooseok’s face in his hands.

Wooseok wasn’t himself anymore, and as much as Yuto could tell from his appearance, Wooseok knew it too. He was stuck in a hospital room day and night, lying in bed and staring at what little amount of life the window from the fifth floor let him see. He couldn’t pick up a pencil without his hand shaking, stopping him from drawing a single line. Hell, he couldn’t even eat properly without choking and coughing up blood, or vomiting all over Yuto’s shirt.

Why should he continue to live if all he could ever do was be a burden to the one he loved?

“I don’t care what you think of yourself, Seokie,” Yuto said into his hair, “I love you just as much as I did five years ago, if not more. I’ll never stop being in love with you even if it’s the last thing I’d do.”

Wooseok squeezed his eyes shut and gripped Yuto’s shirt in his fists, his lips trembling both from the tears and the cold. He couldn’t see Yuto’s face, but he didn’t want to let go, afraid that Yuto would suddenly disappear if he did. So he held onto Yuto as he wept into the latter’s shirt, the weight of the world suddenly dawned on him. It was like waking up from a dream and being shoved back into reality, and Wooseok wanted it to stop.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered, his breathing haggard and unstable.

“I’m not leaving,” Yuto replied, kissing the top of his head.

Wooseok held onto Yuto tightly for what felt like hours, until his grip loosened and his hands fell to the floor.

* * *

_“Yuto, look!” Wooseok pointed at a puff of white cloud in the sky, floating past the sun and blocking the rays of sunlight from peeking through. “That one looks like a burger.”_

_“Like a_ burger _?” Yuto raised an eyebrow. He peered at the cloud and back at Wooseok whose head was on his thigh. The latter was smiling as he looked up at him, and Yuto bent forward to kiss his lips softly. “You’re so weird.”_

_“I’m not weird, you’re just not as creative as me.”_

_“Ouch,” Yuto grimaced, pretending to be hurt only to have Wooseok slapping his shoulder. “You’re such a baby.”_

_“So what if I am?”_

_Yuto only smiled when he heard Wooseok’s laughter. They were underneath a large tree in the middle of the campus park, watching clouds pass by after having light lunch from a picnic basket. It was Wooseok’s favorite spot, and Yuto would always take him there during lunch breaks where their schedules matched._

_They continued to name the clouds they saw and bickered about the ones they disagreed on, only to laugh it away seconds later._

_The way Wooseok looked beneath the shade of the tree was carved into Yuto’s brain forever—from his plump lips and shining, brown eyes to the way he covered his mouth every time he laughed, Yuto was in love with every part that made Wooseok whole._

_“You know you don’t have to cover your mouth around me, Seokie.”_

_Wooseok shrugged, “I’m used to it, I guess.”_

_“I love your smile,” Yuto kissed him again, “I love the way your face lights up when you laugh.”_

_“You’re so cheesy,” Wooseok said, holding back his own laughter._

_“Only for you though,” Yuto replied, his hands moving to tickle Wooseok’s sides until the latter burst out laughing._

_It was one of the happiest moments in their lives._

* * *

Wooseok opened his eyes.

It was always the same dream; just the two of them lying in the grass from many summers ago. He never told Yuto about it, but it was his favorite date. A date that he kept dreaming about every time he fell asleep within the confined walls of the hospital. Wooseok would do anything to go back underneath that tree and lie on Yuto’s lap again, counting leaves and mocking clouds.

He felt a weight on his body and looked down, finding Yuto lying beside him with his head on his chest. Yuto’s shoulders rose and fell at a steady pace, a breathing pattern that Wooseok was accustomed to after hearing it every night. He wanted to run his fingers through Yuto’s hair, but he couldn’t move.

Wooseok tried to move his fingers, his toes, but to no avail. He could only lie still on his pillow, his eyes straining to glance down at Yuto every few seconds. A sigh escaped his lips and he looked at the clock hanging above the door. It was almost midnight and the lights were off, save for the white glow coming from the hallway.

It was still raining outside, though a drizzle now compared to the storm earlier. Wooseok felt his eyelids drooping as he took in the room in front of him and the machine that was no longer beeping beside him. Yuto must’ve turned it off. He knew how much the beeping bothered Wooseok in his sleep.

A small smile appeared on his face at the thought. Wooseok glanced at Yuto again, his gaze tracing the outline of Yuto’s lips and nose and long eyelashes. He wished he could run his fingers through his lover’s hair one more time, but his fingers wouldn’t budge, and his eyes were giving out.

 _I love you_ , Wooseok wanted to say. His voice gave up too. No words came out of his mouth when he opened it and tried to speak.

So Wooseok closed his eyes and tried to match his breathing with Yuto’s, waiting for the same dream to engulf him once more.

* * *

When Yuto awakened around three in the morning, he rubbed his eyes with one hand until his vision came into focus.

_Right. Hospital room._

He glanced at the clock and closed his eyes again, inhaling Wooseok’s scent even if he smelled like medicine and unscented soap. Yuto buried his face in his boyfriend’s chest, ready to let sleep take over him again when he noticed.

Yuto’s eyes shot open as he pressed his ear to where Wooseok’s heart was. The steady heartbeat that was there before, his lullaby every single night, was nowhere to be heard. He waited and waited until five minutes passed, but Wooseok’s chest never rose and fell like it always did.

_Don’t leave me._

_I’m not leaving._

“Wooseok?” Yuto called in the dark, his hands caressing Wooseok’s pale face gently. “Hey, wake up, Seokie,” he said, his voice breaking with each word.

Only silence greeted him.

Yuto didn’t know when the lights came on or when the nurses showed up. He cried out loud, his sobs vibrating through his rib cage while his tears soaked through Wooseok’s white shirt. He cried and cried until his voice was hoarse and his head began to spin; he cried until he felt a pair of arms pull him back, giving way for the doctor and nurses to confirm his…

 _No. Wooseok was here. He’s not leaving_.

“Yuto, please,” someone said to him. Perhaps it was Wooseok’s sister, or maybe it was one of the nurses who knew him on a first name basis. Yuto didn’t care.

He watched as those strangers took his Wooseok away from him through pouring tears, the bed now stripped of life and bearing the shell of someone he loved so deeply.

_Is anyone there at all?_

“I’m still here,” Yuto cried at the edge of the bed as they covered Wooseok’s face with the white blanket.

_I’m still here._

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not good at describing death scenes, but i tried. yell or scream at me, i appreciate it :')


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